


rhapsody of the seas

by sharkfish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cruise Ships, Drinking, M/M, Marijuana, Meet-Cute, Recreational Drug Use, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 16:25:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13861578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkfish/pseuds/sharkfish
Summary: “Can I help you?”“Um,” Dean says, grabbing on to the railing lining the hallway. “This isn’t my room?”“No, it’s not,” the guy says. “Are you ok?”“Tequila,” Dean says. “A lot of it.”





	rhapsody of the seas

**Author's Note:**

> hat tip to the real life dudesh, who does not think i'm cute but did keep me liquored up for the last week, and to [robotsnchicks](http://robotsnchicks.tumblr.com) for the beta. 
> 
> and hugs & kisses to julio, my tour guide in roatan who smoked two joints with me on the beach, by far the best part of my vacation.

Maybe the all-inclusive drink package wasn’t the best idea, because Dean has had a significant amount of tequila and is stumbling a bit from one end of the ship to the other trying to find his room.

If Charlie and Dorothy hadn’t snuck off to their stateroom already, maybe someone could tell Dean which deck his room is on, but he’s pretty sure it’s five. Maybe four, but probably not six. If he walks around enough he’ll find the framed Star Wars holograms in the hallway, and then he’ll know he’s on the right track. 250 is definitely the room number, because it’s on his keycard, and he’s looked at it at least twenty times to make sure he hasn’t forgotten. 

244, 246, 248, 250. No Star Wars holograms — it’s photos of Big Foot instead — and he puts his card in the wrong way the first time, stumbles against the wall of the hallway when the ship rocks, and then turns his key around. The light turns red instead of green, and he frowns down at it, then frowns at the room number, then frowns at his key. It definitely says 250. But maybe he’s supposed to be on deck four.

The door opens, and Dean is dumbstruck by the man in front of him, maybe some sort of alcohol-induced mirage of black and white tattoos and wild hair and eyes the color of the Caribbean wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.

“Can I help you?” 

“Um,” Dean says, grabbing on to the railing lining the hallway. “This isn’t my room?” 

“No, it’s not,” the guy says. “Are you ok?” 

“Tequila,” Dean says. “A lot of it.” 

“I see.” 

“What floor is this? My room must be on — um, another one.” 

“Five.” 

“Shit, I’m sorry. Carry on.” 

Dean tells himself not to, but he takes a last lingering look down the stranger’s body before heading back to the elevators. 

 

Charlie, Dorothy, and Dean are on one of the upper decks getting their hair-of-the-dog on, watching the pathetic souls circling the track above the pool in the morning light. 

“I’m surprised you made it back to your room last night,” Charlie says, laughing. “Your buddy at the bar was over-pouring a bit.” 

“‘A bit’?” Dorothy says. “He thought you were hot. That’s the only explanation.” 

“If you were into dudes, you’d think I was hot, too,” Dean says, and then nearly spits out his gulp of mojito when he catches sight of the guy rounding the corner down the long side of the deck.

_ The  _ guy. Dean had assumed his encounter with someone that hot must’ve been a tequila-induced hallucination, but here he is again, brilliant and strong, and Dean is suddenly rethinking the pathetic souls thing, because he would run after this guy anywhere, anywhen. 

He runs by, not even sparing a glance to Dean’s little threesome of friends, and Dean takes his sunglasses off to better watch the flex of his back and shoulders as he runs past. 

“Ooooh,” Charlie says. “I know that look.” 

“There’s no look,” Dean says, and Dorothy laughs. 

Charlie says, “You brought condoms, right? Maybe they sell them in one of the stores downstairs.” 

“They’ve got to,” Dorothy agrees. 

Dean rolls his eyes, puts his glasses back on and tilts his head into the sun. “That’s not happening.” 

“You have a private room.” 

“Everyone on this boat is straight,” Dean says.

“Statistically,” Charlie says, “there’s probably like a hundred gays around. Fish in a barrel.” 

“I’m not lucky enough to catch that fish.” 

Charlie nudges Dorothy with her elbow. “Go get us more drinks and I’ll meet you in the pool. Let Dean wallow about his terrible luck with men alone.” 

“I’ll see you later,” Dean says, tilting his chair back further and closing his eyes. 

He’s almost dozing when a shadow falls across his face. “Did you find your room all right, or did you sleep out here?” 

Dean looks up, blinking. 5250’s face is framed by sunlight like a halo, the sky blue but nowhere near as intense as his eyes, skin shining with sweat, the angels on his arm’s faces twisted in torturous rapture. “Hey,” Dean says. “Yeah, I made it. Apparently I’m in 6250. Sorry, I’m an asshole.” 

“What are you drinking? I’ll grab you another.” 

“I have a sticker on my card so — no reason for you to pay.” 

“Got it,” 5250 says, something like disappointment flashing across his face. “Enjoy your day.” 

“Hang on. I can go down with you?” 

“Sure.” Dean stands and the guy holds his hand out. “I’m Cas.” 

“Dean. Nice to meet you.” 

“Likewise,” Cas says, and flashes a blinding smile. 

“You here with your girlfriend?” Dean says as they approach the bar. 

Cas gives him a sideways, smirking look, like he knows exactly what Dean is doing. “No, my brother is turning forty and decided to show the rest of us how rich and powerful he is by booking a trip for the whole goddamn family. Where are your lady friends?” 

“They’re lesbians,” Dean says. 

Cas laughs. “Please extend my congratulations.” 

The bartender comes over and Dean says, “What’re you drinking, Cas? Another mojito for me.” 

“I’ll do the same,” Cas says. “Though you seem more like a whiskey man to me.” 

“Even on vacation, ten a.m. seems a little too early for Crown.” 

“I’ll have to wait until later to really get you liquored up, then,” Cas says, and Dean is pretty sure Cas looks at his mouth before they hand over their room cards to ring up the drinks.

 

They don’t talk about anything of particular consequence — several drinks later, Dean still has no idea what Cas does for a living or where he lives or what his life aspirations are — but Cas is funny and sharp and hums along when Dean gets to the drunken serenading stage of flirtation. Dean is ready to crawl into his lap and not leave for a night or two, maybe all week. 

“What time is it?” Cas says. “I’m supposed to meet the family for lunch.” 

Dean digs out his phone. “Ship time is 12:07.” 

“I better go,” Cas says. “Let’s meet up later.” 

“We’ve got late dinner. Drinks at the piano bar at six?” 

“See you then,” Cas says, squeezing Dean’s shoulder as he walks off. 

 

Dean doesn’t manage to ditch Charlie and Dorothy by six, and in fact they’ve picked up a straggler, an older woman who seems a little overwhelmed by the three of them but relieved not to be surrounded by screaming grandchildren. 

The server has just delivered their drinks when Cas slides into the chair next to Dean without Dean even noticing him approaching. Charlie waggles her eyebrows enthusiastically and Dean tries not to blush when he does introductions around the table. Cas mostly-naked was a revelation, but Cas in oxfords, dark jeans, and a button-up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, is somehow even more pornographic, and Dean tries not to stare. 

“I guess formal dinner really means formal, huh?” Dean says. 

Cas glances down at himself, then over at Dean. “You look great,” he says. “And I see it’s late enough for whiskey.” 

“Margaritas are two-for,” Charlie says. “Dudesh makes them strong.” 

“Dudesh thinks Dean is cute,” Dorothy says. 

Dean grumbles and ducks his head and tries not to look at Cas, but he isn’t very successful and catches Cas looking at him consideringly. “He’s ok,” Cas says, and Charlie and Dorothy burst into laughter. 

“I like you,” Dorothy says. 

Dudesh stops by and talks them into a round of Southern Joes. Dean holds up his glass and says, “To living large somewhere between Galveston and Cozumel.” 

Charlie groans and says, “Stop quoting that fucking show,” but taps her glass against everyone else’s anyway. Five glasses hit the table, and then down the hatch, and Charlie comes away coughing and grimacing, but everyone else — even their new friend Barb — takes it like a champ. Cas nods at the bartender for another round. 

“There’s Harry Potter trivia tonight,” Charlie says, punching Dean in the arm. 

“I don’t know anything about that guy,” Dean says, and Dorothy snorts. 

“I have an important question,” Cas says, “and this will determine how the rest of our time together goes.” 

“Hit me,” Dean says. He’s plenty loose already and starting to preen a bit under Cas’s eyes. 

“Who was the hero in Harry Potter?” 

Charlie and Dean share a look. Charlie says, “There are two correct —” 

“He was asking Dean,” Dorothy says. 

“Hermione,” Dean says. “Or Dobby, I could argue that.” 

“Good answer,” Cas says, and raises his fresh shot glass. “To intelligent, underappreciated women.” 

“You’re speaking my language, baby,” Charlie says, and they all drink. 

By eight, the underappreciated women are dancing and giggling, Dean and Cas still in their chairs, leaning close to hear each other over the music. Dean’s telling some stupid story when Cas’s eyes refocus somewhere over his shoulder. Dean looks over and there’s a blonde guy in an obscenely low-cut v-neck under a navy blazer giving Cas a Look. 

“That’s my brother,” Cas says. “The asshole one. His accent is fake.” 

The brother comes over and says, “Are you joining us for dinner, Castiel?” 

“I sure hope not,” Cas says.

“You’re nothing if not predictable,” Cas’s brother says. “Mother is expecting you in ten minutes.” 

Cas rolls his eyes and gives a little sarcastic wave to his back. 

“Your mom’s here, too?” Dean says. 

“The whole fam-damily,” Cas says. “When and where can we meet after dinner?” 

“Hot tub at ten? If we’re lucky we’ll be alone.” 

“Yes, if we’re lucky,” Cas says, eyes heavy in a way that makes Dean squirm. He stands up, but before he goes, bends down to murmur into Dean’s ear, “You are very cute, by the way. Dudesh has great taste.” 

 

There’s an older couple in the hot tub and Dean does his best to make small talk while he waits for Cas, but he immediately falls silent when he catches sight of Cas striding down the deck in the dim light, hair wind-blown, a drink in each hand. He’s impossibly hot, and Dean wants to know how low the tattoos go beneath his black swim trunks. 

“Crown, yes?” Cas says, handing over one of the drinks.

“A man after my own heart,” Dean says, grinning. 

Cas climbs in the hot tub, sitting far closer to Dean than necessary, elbows bumping. “How was dinner?” 

“Don’t laugh at me,” Dean says, “but I’ve never had escargot before, and that shit was delicious.” 

Cas does laugh, but it’s not unkind. “Did you try the lobster? Also incredible.” 

“Nah, maybe tomorrow.” 

Cas holds up his drink and says, “To new friends, good food, and living large in the Gulf of Mexico.” 

“And to getting too drunk to find my room on the first night,” Dean says.

“And to finding the only other young queers on a boat full of geriatrics. I call that kismet.” 

The woman in the hot tub mutters something to her husband and they both stand. It takes them a bit to dry off and shuffle away, and then Cas is grinning again. “I thought that would work.” 

“You’re an evil mastermind.” 

“Mmmhmm,” Cas says, and then slides his hand into Dean’s damp hair to pull him in for a kiss. 

It’s a really good kiss, hot and wet, Cas’s teeth nipping at Dean’s bottom lip when he pulls back. “I was hoping you would be amenable to that,” Cas says. 

“Amenable?” Dean says, laughing. “I was singing you Bad Company earlier.” 

“Is that your standard mating call?” 

“Somethin’ like that,” Dean says, and kisses Cas again, splashing water everywhere as he straddles Cas’s thighs. 

It’s a good thing they’re alone, because Cas’s hands are all over Dean as they kiss, tongues stroking together between their mouths, and Dean is adrift in the intensity of him, nothing but his own pounding heart and the sound of the waves outside in his ears. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Cas says in a quiet moment between kisses. “It’s too bad you were so drunk last night, or I would’ve ravished you then.” 

“Ravished, huh?” Dean says. 

Cas slides a hand under Dean’s trunks to grab his ass, pull him tighter to feel Cas hard underneath him. “Ravished,” he confirms. 

“Did you, um, bring condoms? I wasn’t really planning on, you know. This.” 

“Me either,” Cas says. “But yes, I picked some up earlier.” 

“What are we waiting for then?” 

Cas smiles, dark and a little predatory. “Lead the way.” 

 

Cas is a whirlwind, shoving Dean into bed with his wet trunks still on, stripping them off, flipping him over and fucking him with fingers and then cock into the mattress, wrenching his head back by the hair and whispering unbearably filthy things in his ear. 

Afterwards Dean lays on his back panting, Cas propped up on an elbow watching him. 

“Wow,” Dean says. “I haven’t been fucked like that since — I don’t know when.” 

“Was I too rough? It occurs to me I may have been over-enthusiastic.” 

Dean laughs. “No, trust me. Holy shit.” 

“Good,” Cas says, smiling. “I hope that means we can do it again.” 

“I’d be pissed if we didn’t,” Dean says. “Too bad there’s no way we’re both fitting in that shower.” 

“You can go first.” 

“Ok. After that, I’m definitely sucking your cock. When we don’t taste like chlorine.” 

Cas leans down to kiss Dean, much softer than the way they’d just fucked. “In that case, I’d suggest you hurry.” 

 

Dean comes out of the shower smelling like Cas’s honey shampoo and finds Cas out on the patio, naked with a vape pen in his hand.

“It’s THC,” Cas says. “Would you like some?” 

“Sure,” Dean says. 

Instead of handing over the pen, Cas inhales and then reels Dean in by the back of the neck to breathe into a kiss. Dean’s been rolling from tipsy to extremely drunk for two days, and he’s a little intoxicated on Cas’s attention, and the weed hits him hard and fast so he’s floating, pushing Cas up against the railing to kiss him senseless. 

“Shower,” Cas says, but he’s staring at Dean’s swollen mouth, eyes bright with moonlight. 

“Yeah, go,” Dean says, but takes another kiss first. 

Dean keeps smoking on the deck while he waits, and then he goes to his knees for Cas and lets him have whatever he wants, and then they order room service and eat creme brulee in bed. After they fuck again Dean thinks he should probably make a graceful exit, but Cas pulls the blankets over them and tosses an arm around his middle. “Want me to wake you up for breakfast?” 

“Sure, ok.” 

Cas smiles, kisses Dean’s shoulder, and is asleep before Dean can figure out how to feel about this unexpected cuddling development. 

 

Charlie and Dorothy descend on their table at breakfast. Charlie squeezes Dean around the neck and flops into the chair next to him. “Why am I not surprised to see Cas here?” she says, smirking like she knows exactly what Cas and Dean have been up to. 

“You’re my first love,” Dean says, “but you’re lousy in bed.” 

“You only wish you knew that,” Charlie says, stealing a piece of bacon off Dean’s plate. 

Cas scowls as a guy Dean hasn’t seen before approaches them. “Hello, Gabe.” 

“Brother dearest,” Gabe says. “Made some new friends?” 

“Yes,” Cas says. “I deal with enough straight people in real life. I’d rather spend vacation with family.” 

Gabe sighs like he’s heard this before and is too tired to argue. “At least one of us is having a good time.” 

“You could join us if you need to escape Naomi for a bit.” 

“Oh, thank Christ.” Gabe pulls up a chair and sits at the end of the table between Charlie and Dorothy. “I was glad when you became the black sheep of the family, but I’m starting to question myself. At least they leave you alone.” 

“This is my brother, Gabe,” Cas says. “This is Dean, Charlie, and Dorothy.”

“What brings you three to the middle of the ocean?” 

“Me and Dean’s 30th,” Charlie says. 

“Just the three of you?” 

“My brother was supposed to come,” Dean says. “But he’s kind of an asshole and bailed.” 

“Consider yourself blessed,” Gabe says. “Cassie, how many times do you think our mother mentioned what an embarrassment your tattoos are?” 

“At least three times every time I see her.” Cas nudges his foot against Dean’s under the table. “She also finds my sexual proclivities to be very unfortunate.” 

“I’m a fan of your tattoos and sexual proclivities,” Dean says, smiling and nudging back. 

Cas gives Dean a long look that reminds him of the way Cas kissed him that morning while he rode Dean’s cock. It’s been less than twenty four hours and Dean figures sex with anyone else has been ruined for him forever. 

 

After lunch, Cas signs up to go snorkeling with Dean’s group the next day, and then Dean signs up to see Mayan ruins with Cas the day after, and Cas books a private tour on a sailboat at the last port where the guide looks the other way while Dean and Cas make out on the deck. 

“Damn,” Dean says later that night while they’re laying on their backs on the deserted running track, looking up at the cloudless black sky. “Back to the real world in two days.” 

Cas groans. “Don’t remind me. Come Monday I’m going to be angry at myself for not doing any work while I was here.” 

“I guess it’s a good thing I can’t work on cars from the middle of the ocean.” 

“I didn’t even bring my computer, or I would’ve been tempted to at least look at emails,” Cas says. “Well, I may have been tempted before I met you.” 

Dean smiles, but then it really hits him that Cas is going to walk out of his life, probably forever, in less than 48 hours. He squeezes Cas’s hand tight like that could stave off the inevitable. 

“I know we’re on vacation,” Cas says, “and things happen that wouldn’t if we were at home, but do you think I could call you sometime? When we get back?” 

Dean turns his head to look at him. “What?” 

Cas laughs, but it sounds a little bitter. “I know,” he says. “I shouldn’t have asked.” 

“No, you — really? You want to?” 

“Yes.” Cas lifts Dean’s hand, kisses his knuckles. “Is it a little late for me to ask if you have a boyfriend at home?” 

“I don’t,” Dean says. “Do you?” 

“I’m not the type to be unfaithful. Not that you are,” Cas hurries to amend. “Just — in case you were wondering.”

“Did you fly in to Houston?” 

“Drove,” Cas says. “I’m teaching at UT as of this year.” 

“Wait,” Dean says. “Texas or Tennessee?” 

Cas shows Dean his hand, pointer and pinky sticking up. “Hook ‘em.” 

“Holy shit,” Dean says. “Holy shit.”

“Are you an Aggie?” Cas says, smiling a little.

“No, I’m — I live in Austin.” 

Cas stares at Dean in silence for a moment. “So we could…” 

“Yeah,” Dean says. “If you wanted.” 

“Yes. I want to make you dinner next weekend.” 

“As long as it’s not seafood,” Dean says. “I swear to god, I’m going to start growing fins.” 

Cas laughs and rolls over on top of Dean to kiss him soundly. “I make a mean burger.” 

“I can eat a mean burger.” 

“And I’d like to do terrible things to you in a more comfortable bed.” 

“Yeah, I’m amenable to that,” Dean says, grinning. “I have a nice bed, too.” 

Cas cups Dean’s face in his hand, strokes a thumb across his cheekbone. “I bet you look amazing covered in engine grease.” 

“I bet you look amazing being all, um, professorly. Are there sweater vests?” 

“Absolutely not. Do you want to drive back with me?” 

“Yeah. Do you want to take me back to your uncomfortable stateroom bed? We’ve still got plenty of time to put it to good use.” 

Cas smiles, wide and lovely. “Lead the way.” 

**Author's Note:**

> [reallyelegantsharkfish on tumblr](http://reallyelegantsharkfish.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [transformative works policy](http://reallyelegantsharkfish.tumblr.com/post/167716491355/transformative-works-policy)


End file.
